I'm a lasagna boy!

The Girl From Monday

Hal Hartley introduced his latest project, The Girl from Monday at The Roxie. After the screening, he cheerfully fielded questions, discussing his methods when filming film stock vs. digital video, on which TGFM was shot; his approach to music composition and film scoring ("I wrote the music first, then shot"); and whether he and Martin Donovan, one of his frequent collaborators, will work together again ("Yes." I was quite glad that someone asked).

The film was evocative, the plot funny, and the music a good complement. Bill Sage, carving the handsome, do-good profile of a latter-day Cary Grant, plays an adman caught up in the new economy he helped create, where citizens are stockholders in the corporate machine of consumerism. Disposable income is a driving force behind the market, until The Company (known as Triple M) develops a method for using sex to increase shareholder value. Many of the grainy exterior scenes were shot in Lower Manhattan and the Lower East Side, and evoke the timeless business of a city.

In an interview with Green Cine, Hartley remarked that he draws inspiration from the textures of Sonic Youth. And before the show, Greg treated us to a rendition of the dance from Hartley's Simple Men, set to Kim Gordon's crooning of "Kool Thing".

I'm posting this for Joseph, who had to bail at the last minute in order to save the world from stale search results (his heroics succeeded! hurrah!).

On the enforcement of parking regulations

With these handy print-able pamphlets, San Francisco hopes to keeps the streets in order.

Why is this enforcement critical? San Francisco needs to maintain its sidewalks clear for pedestrians. Even as more sidewalk ramps are put in place (never mind the man in this neighbourhood who habitually steers his red wheelchair through the streets).

Did you know that during peak hours, having a tow will take more than two hours? So the most important thing is avoiding the need for a tow in the first place. Although it is possible to have a private company tow an offending car, but it's more complicated, since there's no DPW citation.

Fudgeripple Pouchhappy

While looking for a copy of "The Man Who Stole The Atlantic Ocean", I found that the Main Libray now has wireless internet access. Spiffy: perhaps I'll work there today, although the library does not have the book (which is no longer in print, but available for $15 from online secondhand booksellers).
A synopsis of the book: fat retired beach-goers find thmselves social outcasts, and take their revenge by secreting the Atlantic Ocean in the basement of their New Jersey club-house. The illustrations -- line drawings, if I remember aright -- of the protagonist, a Mr Fudgeripple Pouchhappy, delight. Eventually, kids save the day.

While we're discussing infrastructure in San Francisco, why is the SFPD's online crime map application so lame?

A different city

To kick off the merry merry month of May, New York hosts the annual Five Boro Bike Tour. I do'n't have my act together for this year, but riding over the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge sounds glorious. The faithful will attend the Blessing of the Bikes tomorrow morning at St John the Divine (and perhaps go down the block for some wings and a pint afterwards).
What would it take to organise a Four Bridges bicycle ride in the Bay Area? The
Al Zampa bridge already has a bike lane; a token bicycle path is in place on the Dumbarton Bridge; the new Bay Bridge (a "bridge of superlatives") will feature a bicycle lane, at least half-way (!!); all that remains is to close the Golden Gate so that cycles can pour across it.

CMWC is on -- on th' other side of the Hudson, that is (nicely pinched and ps'd map!).

These are the people that you meet Pt X

Almost every morning, an older man (I hesitate to call him a gentleman) walks up to the café with his handsome Labrador retriever. He invariably wears old denim jeans and a grey sweatshirt, covers his white hair with a blue baseball cap, and carries a rubber chicken. He walks in the front door, drops the dog's leash, and admonishes him to "Stay!".
The dog looks as his master walks towards the counter, and then follows, tail a-wagging. Of course he will. The man turns around, inept and furious: "Stay! I said sit!", but the dog wanders towards the counter, tongue out.
For reference, the café has hitching posts outside the door where customers typically attach dog leashes. The sign on the door,"No dogs allowed by order of the Health Department", has faded and torn.

As seen on my way to work

If at first you do'n't succeed

The U.S. Mint is hoping that the third time is a charm when it comes to dollar coins. Perhaps if women aren't featured these will catch on? Never you mind, the gold bouillion series will feature First Ladies.

doggerel

As the word doggerel appeared in the book I read on the morning bus and in an email message, I decided to search the internet for it, and was justifiably alarmed at the first result (I'm feeling lucky, indeed!).
Usually I hear the word and immediately think of poetry by Ogden Nash.

Punk rock in the Holy Land

Liz Nord's documentary on punk rock in the Holy Land, Jericho's Echo, had its San Francisco premiere last month.

       Punk historians quibble about the exact origins of punk music, but for more than 30 years it has surfaced across the world, from the United States and Great Britain to the People's Republic of China.

In Israel, a vibrant punk scene has emerged in a society torn apart by the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians. In these four candid video interviews, FRONTLINE/World reporter and filmmaker Liz Nord talks to the musicians driving the movement.

Like other young Israelis, the punk rockers have been affected personally by the conflict. They have fought as soldiers and lost friends and fans killed by suicide bombers. Bands from both ends of the political spectrum use their music to comment on Israeli society. Others make music just to have fun. But all of them agree that punk rock represents freedom.

Would you like to see pictures of the cat?

... and more photographs of Sprout!

Who's a war pig?

Fuckin' a.